


The Execution

by JTHMManson4



Category: Family Guy
Genre: AU, Dark, Dictator, Dictatorship, Future, Gen, Stewie Griffin - Freeform, Teen Stewie, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9905696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JTHMManson4/pseuds/JTHMManson4
Summary: Per month, a specific event occurs. An unstoppable one.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I don't own Family Guy.  
> This is more based on an earlier seasons Stewie. Also, this is based on the Stewie I mostly commonly write, a fifteen year old version. 
> 
> A small taste of how he can still be, after all these years.

It was an average afternoon. 

Seeming like an average city at the very least, one would have to take a closer look nevertheless to see a horrifying event occurring. 

All kinds of people were gathering—muttering amongst themselves, never one typical chuckle of a crowd. Looks of horror were instead of the rage, as their eyes flew up and over to the stage before them. The sun was casting some shadows beyond people--- almost if ironically making it a little more sinister that day. 

Sinister---

Cameras were focused on the stage that would set a further example. 

It was empty for right now, but soon enough some sharply dressed men and women came upon it, keeping a neat line. The crowd died down quite a bit—awe-struck. 

They stopped, much to the intrigue of the audience. 

A small portion of them disappeared off to the side, where--- 

Where…

Well, people preferred not to think about it. 

A podium stood—Stood right on the right side of the stage. Poles around the area had flat-screen TVs where it would be broadcasting as well for people in the back of the crowd. Not to mention, the cameras were also linked up to the TV broadcasting system. 

Broadcasting where?

To the entire world. 

The person of interest who was leading this event wasn’t out just yet---

Their presence would be soon noticed, when the time was right. A few minutes by, and a black limo pulled up off on the corner of the street, a block away. 

“Goddamn it!” A curse was heard within, by a somewhat young voice. 

The door swung open, allowing them to step out—and what one could see was a crisp dark blue suit, a hand of the owner hurriedly wiped at one of his cuffs. 

It was a boy—no older than the age of fifteen. 

A huff exited his mouth, as he sighed with relief. Now adjusting his sleeve, he took a slow gaze over to the stage and withheld back a smirk. Today’s list of traitors and rebels would pay, no doubt. It was all part of his system—

His system to keep the world under his very control. 

Fear. 

It was most definitely a powerful motivator, and no doubt it would be used. 

His shoes crunched the gravel underneath his feet, as he finally shut the door, his bodyguard closely following behind him. 

A phone was dug out his blazer’s side pocket, and he held it up to his ear after dialing. “I’m here. Get them up onto the stage.” One would hardly believe it, but the British voice was cold as ice, showing no room for argument.

“Of course, Mr. Griffin, sir.” One of the men said from the stage. 

Some struggling people were suddenly led onto the area, fear clear within their eyes. As soon as they were, the crowd fell utterly silent.

A pin could drop, and everyone would hear it. 

A little blip came from the dictator’s phone, as he ended the call, looking on in satisfaction as his employee did what he was told. 

His chilling, chocolate eyes swept over the crowd, daring them to protest, to speak up. 

“Y-You can’t do this… M-My—“ 

The boy’s eyes turned sharply to the protesting man, and he simply scoffed, pausing his walk to the podium. He narrowed his eyes--

“You cannot stop this.” 

It was a simple statement, but it was a good way to see what people would do if trapped. It was the perfect to weed out future rebels, and bring them to justice. 

“W-W—“

“Shut up.” 

The torn up man immediately did so, now clinging to a woman beside him, letting his view to tract away from the sight before him. He wouldn’t watch. He couldn’t. 

The leader made note of the guy’s appearance, before continuing on. Before everyone knew, Stewie was right up on stage in his place. Lifting his arms and hands, he adjusted the microphone in front of him.

“Yes, hello. As usual, Stewart Griffin, dictator of this fine world, to bring you people yet another Public Execution. Of course, this is a bit odd having two ones in a month, but it is entirely necessary. There had been a slight increase of individuals harmful to the world in which I’ve built for all of you—“

He motioned behind himself, diagonally to the right. 

“But they are to be taken care of today, nevertheless. A number of traitors had been observed—and finally caught. To be done with.” 

He sent a slight look, particularly at one of them, and they seemed to look right back at the still child. 

The eye contact broke, instantly as the boy looked back upon the crowd. 

“….Such as this—“ The teen refrained from using cusswords in place of others. Not in public, not on camera. “—Person right over there.” 

He pointed directly at the man who he had been glaring at. 

“He is part of the major ‘Dictator Down’ group from Great Britain, itself. He is one of the highest ranks within the organization, and another thing—“ He looked directly a camera a few feet away. 

“The leader will no doubt be brought down as well, hopefully in the next couple of months.” 

Those words seemed to echo—All over. 

It would be one of the greater accomplishments Stewie would have accomplished these last two and half years. The group had been a major thorn in his side for a better part of a whole year. They were usually people who lay low, only struck when necessary. Definitely intelligent, or the teenager would have caught all of them a long time ago.

Stewie had to repress a full-out grin—lest he’d look like a lunatic. 

So, so close. 

A sigh of relief and of victory passed through his nose, as he continued to speak--- 

“The others are not of any significant role—merely random people.” He waved his hand a bit in the air, before lowering it. Suddenly, he cleared his throat. Getting out some notecards, he placed them upon the podium—and if one could observe, they had names and descriptions on them. 

“Now—“ He motioned briefly with his hand towards some of the security—“..Bring up Alexander Jones.” 

Two of Stewie’s men brought up the sandy haired, medium build man up to a spot where below was a giant black x. “N-No, please…” 

“Begging doesn’t do anything.” The one on the right. 

”They’re right.” Stewie said in a quiet voice, before picking it up, facing the audience, who looked nervous. 

“NOW—The method of execution is—“ He always did a dramatic pause. “--- A gunshot to the head.” 

Alexander immediately shut his eyes, not wanting to look. 

“3, 2, 1—“

All it took was a simple signal, and the deed was done, letting the ringing of the gunshot linger within the atmosphere for a few tense moments. 

Blood. 

It leaked down the stage’s sides—with each person that had been violently murdered. 

Until—

“Johnson. We finally meet. Face to face.” 

Johnson looked up slowly towards Stewie, hatred within his eyes. “….Griffin.”

Both voice kept low. It was a slightly private conversation. “You knew this bloody day would come.” Woops. Stewie had cursed. 

“Wrong… the important day—it’s still yet to come.” 

“Pray tell, what’s that?” 

“…Your death.” 

Stewie’s face nearly twitched into a sneer. “…I highly doubt it, my good man.” 

“The leader….” Johnson was breathing a little heavily. “He’ll get you. I-I… have faith.” 

“Oh, a male, hnnnn?”

“That’s public knowledge.”

Stewie tch’ed, almost wanting to slam his foot right into the guy’s face right then and there. “…I’ll tear him down. When I’m done with him, he’ll wish death.” 

Confusion spread across his face. “So… the rumors are true…” 

“Yes, my basement is essentially a torture dungeons sort of arrangement.”

Johnson slightly paled, then barked out a low laugh. “Right… and you wonder why 3/4s of the world wants to tear you down?” 

“Lies.. It’s not that bloody much.” 

Johnson cracked a slight smile. “You wanna bet?” 

“Yeah, I do.” Just then, he signaled for his men to do the execution. A nice brutal attack—some of the audience had to turn away. 

After the next person, the boy could had sworn he heard hateful murmurs within the crowd. 

Interesting. 

He turned—

That night he slept quite peacefully despite the horrors that had occurred.


End file.
